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Season (noun)
The social season, or season, refers to the traditional annual period in the spring and summer when it is customary for members of the social elite of British society to hold balls, dinner parties and charity events.
*****
Colonel Sandor Clegane stared at himself in the mirror as his ‘man’ Bronn straightened his cravat. No matter how fine the material, or how nicely tailored the uniform, or how many medals adorned his chest, none of that would matter once people saw his face. He sighed. A lifetime of defending his country had left him with permanent reminders of his service: a body riddled with nicks and scars, a permanent limp, and most gruesome; a burn that covered half his face, obliterating one ear and preventing hair growth on one side of his head. He had covered the damage as much as he could by growing an unfashionable beard and styling his hair to swoop over his affected side, but it was still there, it was always there. Nothing could change what he had seen in battle, or the scars he carried, both physical and mental.
He had endured the gawks and stares for years, but this would be the final time. If he could successfully launch his younger sister Eleanor into society, he could finally retire permanently to his estate in Devon. No need to come out every year and endure another season of insipid girls being introduced into society. No more dancing, no more dinners, no more tea parties, no more adjourning to the parlor with fathers to be grilled about his prospects. No, this was it. He just needed to get through the next few months. Hopefully Eleanor would either meet the man of her dreams or decide that she too wanted to move back to Devon and take care of her brother. Either would be fine with him, as long as she was happy and content. That was all he wanted. Realizing that Bronn was looking at him expectantly, he straightened up and looked at his appearance once again.
“Thank you, Bronn. You’ve done a good job with what you had to work with.”
Bronn inclined his head in thanks and quipped “If you will forgive me Sir, you do not look as if you are looking forward to tonight.”
Sandor sighed, Bronn had been with him for years, had listened to him lament having to be out in society, had put him to bed when he had too much to drink, had cleaned up him messes (including removing the odd female from his rooms over the years) Bronn knew everything, and Sandor trusted him with everything.
“It is true, I am not looking forward to another season of mindless chatter, dancing in this uncomfortable clothing, not to mention, the shoes, the backstabbing, the tears. Battles don’t have the maneuvers I’ll see tonight.”
Bronn smirked, “maybe there will be some interesting intrigue this year.”
Sandor smirked “Ah, if only that were the case. I almost wish that I had been old enough and out in society the year of the Cersei Lannister/Rhaegar Targaryen/Lyanna Stark/Robert Baratheon scandal. That would have made this tedium worth it. But alas, it will probably be just another year of too young girls, being paraded by their mothers, sold to the highest bidder.”
Bronn nodded sympathetically “Well my Lord, I and the rest of the staff, do hope it goes well for Miss Eleanor”
Sandor nodded “I too. Do you know if she is ready yet?” Bronn shook his head. “Well I’m going to go downstairs to my study and have a fortifying drink to prepare myself. Can you let Miss Tarth know where I am, also let Beric know that we will need the carriage brought around in thirty minutes.”
“Of course sir.”
Sandor heaved out one last sigh “once more into the breach, as they say.”
Sansa
Sansa stood in front of the mirror as Miss Poole and her mother adjusted her gown one last time. I look like a lamb being led to the slaughter, Sansa thought morosely. The gown was beautiful, to be sure. White silk, with a white organza overlay and a blue ribbon that matched her eyes tied under her bust. Her hair had been fussed over and pulled and braided and curled; all to tame it into the latest fashion. Had it been up to Sansa (which it was not) she would have left it down.
Sansa understood how important tonight was to her family. She was the oldest daughter, and the first Stark female to be presented into society since her Aunt Lyanna. Realizing her mother was looking at her expectantly, she twirled in front of the mirror.
“Oh, Mama it is beautiful.”
Catelyn Stark looked at her daughter and smiled remembering back to her own introduction into society, how dashing Eddard Stark had looked in his formal wear at the ball where they met. It was love at first sight, and all these years later, they were launching their own daughter into society. Catelyn hoped Sansa would enjoy her season as much as she had. More importantly, meet her soulmate, as Catelyn had.
Sansa met her mother’s eyes in the mirror “Do you think I am ready?”
Catelyn wiped a tear that threatened to spill down her cheek “Oh, Sansa you are ready. Your father and I are so proud of you.” Catelyn turned to Sansa’s companion “Miss Poole, please let Lord Stark know that we will be down in a moment, and that he should arrange to have the carriage brought to the door.”
Sansa squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach, hoping against hope that tonight would go well. Maybe she would even make a friend. It was going to be a long season, and it would be nice to have a confidant. Since the Starks did not live in town, they were staying at her Uncle Benjen’s townhouse; Sansa had little opportunity to meet people here, and none of her schoolmates from Miss Austen’s Academy were being presented in town this year. Sansa longed to have a friend her own age. Miss Poole was lovely, but she was older, and her parents paid her to spend time with Sansa. Maybe tonight would not be a lost cause if she ended the evening by making a life-long friend.
Assembly Rooms
Even before entering the room, Sandor could hear the dull roar of conversations taking place inside the Assembly Rooms. All the young ladies and their parents or guardians were lined up outside the room waiting to be introduced. Sandor stood placidly as Eleanor fussed with his medals, making sure each one was hanging correctly. He allowed it, he knew that she was nervous, and this was better than fussing with her gown, again. When they had arrived at the Rooms, Miss Tarth had taken charge of Eleanor, leading her into the dressing rooms to ensure that her hair and gown had not been mussed in the drive over. Now they were just waiting for their names to be called. He could hear introductions being called from beyond the door.
“Miss Margaery Tyrell, escorted by her father Lord Mace Tyrell and her Grandmother Lady Olenna Tyrell.”
“Miss Sansa Stark, escorted by her parents Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn Stark.”
“Miss Myrcella Baratheon, escorted by her mother Lady Cersei Baratheon and her uncle Lord Jamie Lannister.”
Finally, it was their turn. “Miss Eleanor Clegane, escorted by her brother Colonel Sandor Clegane.”
As they made their way down the long staircase, Sandor could feel the looks of horror and speculation on the faces of the crowd down below. It was this way every year. It was as if everyone forgot that they had already looked and gawked and speculated about his scars the year before. He felt Eleanor tighten her hand on his forearm and he glanced over at her, only to receive the sweetest look of support from her. He smiled, he could do this, he WOULD do this, for her. They reached the bottom of the stairs and were absorbed into the crowd. Young men swarming Eleanor, adding their names to her dance card. Before he ‘blended into the background’ Sandor whispered to her that he would see her for the first dance.
Sansa was a bit overwhelmed by the attention. Her dance card was full within minutes of her introduction. Hopefully these young men could hold an intelligent conversation. She felt as if she was going into battle, and her weapons were her manners and conversation. As she was making her way back to her father for the first dance, she bumped into the largest man she had ever seen. At least a full foot taller than her, impeccably dressed in full military uniform, with a chest full of medals. Looking further up, her eyes widened in alarm at the sight of his scars; meeting his stare, his grey eyes hardened when he noticed her expression.
“Take a good look girl, this is what happens when you defend this country.”
“Sir, my apologies, I did not mean to stare.”
“Not a sir, Little Bird; now fly off to your daddy.” With that the tall, rude man turned and left Sansa standing there outraged.
How dare he, Sansa thought. What did he expect? She was surprised, nothing more. Noticing her father by the refreshments, she made her way over to him. “Papa, do you know who that tall man in the uniform is?” she asked as she pointed towards Sandor’s back.
“That is Colonel Sandor Clegane, he is quite the war hero, he was gravely injured during the Peninsula War. I believe he is escorting his younger sister, he is her guardian.”
“Well, he is quite rude too.”
“Lemoncake, he has had a hard life. While he was away fighting, his entire family, save his sister, was killed in a carriage accident. Now, he has determined to give his sister a season, knowing that people will stare. In fact, he endured this type of attention for years, so that when his sister came of age, he would be well known and accepted. He is a devoted brother.”
Sansa felt awful for him “How do you know all this Papa?”
“When you have to endure these events, and you do not have someone that you are introducing to society, you tend to gravitate towards the refreshments, that is where Colonel Clegane and I met.”
Sansa giggled, she understood exactly what her father was NOT saying. “Well Papa, I will bow to your superior knowledge of Colonel Clegane, but he was still quite gruff with me. Perhaps our second encounter will be more agreeable.” Suddenly the sound of violins being tuned alerted everyone that the dancing was about to commence. Lord Stark turned to his daughter and offered his arm, which she took, and they proceeded to the dance floor.
The guests lined the floor in two long rows, ladies on one side, their fathers, or guardians on the other. Sansa noticed that Colonel Clegane was a short distance from them, across from a lovely girl with dark hair and striking grey eyes, the sister she supposed. Trying to keep her attention on her father, Sansa was annoyed that her eyes kept sliding to Colonel Clegane. Watching him covertly, she was pleased to see his expression soften as he danced with his sister. He was really quite handsome when he smiled, despite the scar. Without warning, Colonel Clegane turned his head and caught Sansa staring at him. She flushed and looked away quickly, then realizing she might offend him, again, turned her head back and offered him a small but genuine smile. He nodded his head in acknowledgement and returned his attention to his sister. Pleased with herself, she finished the dance with her beloved papa.
The night was long, after the first set of dances, Sansa retired to the anteroom to sit for a few minutes. Not only were the young men not adequate conversationalists, they were clumsy too! Her feet had been trod on several times during the previous two hours. She ungracefully collapsed onto a settee and toed off her dancing slippers. Hearing a giggle, she looked up into a merry set of grey eyes.
“May I join you? My feet are quite sore as well. Are men not required to take dance lessons? It is very unfair.”
Sansa smiled “please do join me, and no, I do not think they do take lessons, or if they do, they do not pay attention.” Holding out her hand she declared “I am Sansa Stark.”
“Eleanor Clegane, I am very pleased to meet you.”
“I as well.”
“My brother always says that dances are like battles; something about troop movements and flanking and charges and retreats. I never knew what he meant until this evening. I have been to small neighborhood gatherings in Devon where there was dancing, but nothing as large as this. It is quite a crush.”
“I believe your brother is correct. Although I had always heard that the Duke of Wellington was an excellent dancer.”
“One does not become a Duke without successfully maneuvering around a dance floor, that is what Sandor tells me anyway. He served under Wellington during the Peninsula War, so I suppose he would know.”
Hearing the bell that announced supper, the girls groaned, then giggled. Slipping on their shoes, they stood and looked at each other. Tilting her head Sansa murmured “once more into the breach”
Eleanor laughed, and Sansa drew her eyebrows together in confusion “What is so funny?”
“That is what Sandor always says.”
The rest of the evening was uneventful. After supper, both Sansa and Eleanor had partners for all the dances; sometimes passing each other on the floor and smiling or rolling their eyes. Troop movements, indeed.
When the evening was finally over, Sandor collected Eleanor from a blushing young man who introduced himself as Sir Podrick Payne. Bowing over her hand Payne requested the honor of calling on her the following day. Glancing at her brother and noticing his slight nod, she agreed. He straightened up, looked Sandor directly in the eye and promised to see them on the morrow.
“Well Eleanor, it looks as though you have made a friend.”
“Well, I believe that makes two. I met a lovely girl in the anteroom. We complained about the heavy footedness of many of the dancers tonight. I wonder where she went. She is quite jolly, I liked her a great deal.” Looking around, Eleanor spied Sansa as she stood speaking to her parents. “There she is, over there, with the red hair. Do you see her, Sandor?”
Sandor internally groaned, of course it was her. The one person in the entire room that he had made a bad impression on. “I believe that is Lord Stark over there, that must be his daughter.”
“You know him?” Sandor nodded. “That is wonderful, yes, her name is Sansa Stark. Maybe we can call on the Starks this week? I do so want to make friends while I am here. It would make this entire process so much easier if I had someone to commiserate with, please?”
Sandor grinned at her antics, knowing full well that he could not deny her anything “Of course we can call on them. Why don’t we go over and set a time and date so you will have ample opportunity to spend time with her.” Eleanor squeaked in delight and kissed her brother on the cheek, then dragged him over to where the Starks were standing.
Sansa swung around as her newest acquaintance, Eleanor dragged her brother over to her and her parents. Colonel Clegane nodded to her father and bowed over her mother's hand. "Sansa, how are your feet? I did finally have one partner who paid attention during dance class."
"Eleanor, I'm so glad to see you before we left for the evening." She giggled. "Sadly, my after supper partners were just as bad as the others. My favorite partner of the evening was my dear Papa."
Eleanor looked slyly at her brother "Well the next time we are all together, you must dance with my brother. He is very light on his feet."
Sandor tapped his sister's shoulder "Eleanor, do not put Miss Stark in the spot." Turning to Sansa "Miss Stark, I apologize for my sister's impertinence, she does love to tease me."
Looking at Sandor directly in the eye, Sansa replied "it would be my honor to dance with one of our nation's heroes. I would be pleased to save a place on my card at the next dance."
Sandor blinked in confusion "Please do." Turning to his sister "Come Eleanor, it is late, it is time to go home. I believe Sir Podrick plans to call tomorrow, you will want to be well rested when he arrives."
Sansa's eyes widened at his statement "Sir Podrick asked to call?" Eleanor nodded, and Sansa squeaked excitedly, "Eleanor, that is marvelous. Go home and sleep. I'll send you a note tomorrow so we can arrange to have tea, I will want to hear all about Sir Podrick's call." With that Sansa squeezed Eleanor in a quick hug and dropped a curtsy towards Sandor. Lord and Lady Stark nodded at the siblings and they and Sansa moved towards the exit.
Once the Stark's were out of earshot Sandor turned to Eleanor "Why did you embarrass your new friend like that? Why would she want to be forced into dancing with an old broken down soldier like me?"
Eleanor smiled knowingly at her brother, "I do not believe Sansa thinks she is being forced into anything. Did you not notice that she was staring at you?"
Sandor looked at her askance "I think you are seeing things that are not there."
"We will see brother. Come let us go home, I need to look my best tomorrow."
*****
The Season flew by, most evenings were filled with dinners or balls or concerts, the afternoons with teas, visits to museums, and calling on friends. The next ball that both the Starks and the Clegane siblings attended, Sansa shyly told Sandor that she had saved a spot on her dance card for him; he immediately requested that she add his name. Eleanor had been correct; Sandor was a very good dancer, and Sansa enjoyed herself immensely. As the season went on, Sansa began to save two dances for Sandor. Eventually he was allotted the supper dance, so they could dine together along with Eleanor and Sir Podrick, and the final dance of the evening.
But, as the weeks went by, Sandor was more and more concerned that he was spending too much time with Miss Stark. He was sure that she only favored him with the two most prominent dances (other than the opening dance) so she could spend more time with her friend Eleanor. He wasn’t sure how to warn her that people might begin to speculate about them if this continued. He didn’t want to say anything to make her self-conscious and regret spending time with him, but he realized that he might be hurting her prospects and spoke to Eleanor about it one evening, late in the season, on their way to a ball.
“Nelly, you must speak to Miss Stark about her saving dances for me. It is not seemly.”
“Whatever do you mean brother?”
“Miss Stark is one of the most beautiful women I have ever met, you excluded of course, she should not be dancing with a disfigured old soldier. She should be dancing with Dukes and Barons and maybe even a Prince or two. You must tell her to stop favoring me, people will begin to talk, they might already be.”
“Sandor, if my very dear friend wants to dance with my dearest brother, I am not going to stop her. If you do not want to dance with her, you must tell her that yourself.”
Sandor grumbled to himself. Of course, he wanted to dance with her, how could he not? But this was very dangerous territory for him. He had survived battles and injuries; he wasn’t sure he could survive many more smiles and dances with Sansa Stark without losing his heart completely.
Sansa
Sansa looked at herself in the mirror as Miss Poole adjusted her gown. She had taken particular care with her appearance for tonight. She hoped that Colonel Clegane would appreciate her effort. Tonight, rather than her normal pastels, Sansa had chosen to wear a gown in a lovely wheat shade. What most people would not know, but hopefully Colonel Clegane would, was the color exactly matched the background on the Clegane coat of arms.
Sansa wasn’t sure when she had lost her heart to Sandor Clegane, but she had. The weeks of getting to know him better while they danced and talked, or ate supper and talked, it was everything she hoped her season would be. She just needed to determine how to best ascertain his feelings while letting him know hers. This wasn’t anything anyone taught her as she prepared to be introduced to society.
She thought a step in the right direction was to wear his colors, and hope he commented on it. Then she would confirm she had worn them purposefully. If all went well, she could even give him a token she had made; a handkerchief in the same color that she had embroidered with black dogs around the hem. Sansa hugged herself in excitement, hopefully tonight would be perfect.
Assembly Rooms
The gossip of the evening was that Sir Roose Bolton, the Duke of Dreadfort was attending the ball with his very eligible son, Sir Ramsay The anteroom was filled with young ladies peering at themselves in the mirrors, adjusting their gowns, pinching their cheeks to pink them up; all to impress Sir Ramsey. Sansa and Eleanor looked at each other in amusement, they had no such aspirations, and would be able to just enjoy one of the final events of the season.
Sansa slipped out of the room, hoping to find Colonel Clegane before the room was too crowded. Spying him bowing to Lord Jaime Lannister, she swiftly moved through the room, waiting for their conversation to finish so she could speak to the Colonel herself. Loitering behind a screen, she could hear them very clearly.
“Clegane, I have not seen you at the clubs all season. I suppose your sister has you dancing on a string for her.”
“She does indeed, but I believe this may be the final event I will need to endure. Sir Podrick has asked to court Nellie, so my time dancing attendance is almost finished.”
Sansa was thrilled for her friend, Eleanor deserved to be happy. So caught up in her glee, Sansa almost missed the next topic by Lord Lannister.
“That is capital old chap, congratulations! Perhaps I’ll start seeing you at Ros’ again. The ladies miss your big ugly face, not to mention your big ugly other thing.” Lannister punched Sandor in the arm for emphasis and Sandor chuckled embarrassed. What neither man noticed was Miss Sansa Stark, face draining of color, stumbling away in mortification.
Not really looking where she was going, Sansa staggered back towards the anteroom. How could she have been so foolish? What would make her think that someone as worldly as Colonel Clegane would have any interest in her? She had been so misguided, he had only agreed to dance with her, and eat with her to be polite. He was not a man that wanted to settle down. He wanted to continue to enjoy everything the world had to offer him. Not looking where she was going, Sansa lurched into a man her own height with piercing ice blue eyes, Sir Ramsay Bolton.
“Sir, I beg your forgiveness. I am so clumsy tonight.”
“There is no harm, I am quite alright. Miss Stark I believe?” Sansa nodded. “I am Sir Ramsay Bolton, I believe my father’s estate is within a day's ride of your family home? It is unusual that we have never met before.”
“It is, my Lord, I believe I was away at school when you returned from your grand tour.”
“Miss Stark, if I may be so bold as to ask if there is any room on your dance card?” Sansa glanced down at her dance card, the two remaining openings were the ones she normally reserved for Colonel Clegane. Wordlessly, she handed it to Sir Ramsay, and he wrote his name on both lines.
“Capital, I hope we may dine together as well?” Sansa nodded. “Then I will see you for the supper dance.” Sir Ramsey took his leave of Sansa and she continued on to the anteroom, which had emptied out significantly from when she had been in there before, however Eleanor was still there waiting for her.
“Sansa, where have you been? The music is about to start.”
“Oh, uhm, I was just speaking to Sir Ramsay Bolton, he asked to be included on my dance card.”
“Did you have room left?”
“Only the supper dance and the final dance, he requested both.”
“Do you not usually save those two dances for Sandor?”
Sansa looked pained and replied, “I am sure he will be relieved to not have to dance with a silly child.”
Eleanor looked at her strangely “Sansa, I know for a fact that Sandor enjoys spending time with you. I am sure he will be disappointed to not take supper with you this evening, I know that I will.”
“I am sure he will find someone else to speak to during supper. I did see him speaking to Lord Lannister, they looked quite comfortable together, laughing and slapping each other on the back.”
“Oh him, Sandor abhors Jaime Lannister. They were friends in their youth but no more. Lannister is a rake of the worst kind. Do stay away from him Sansa.”
Eleanor linked arms with Sansa and pulled her out of the anteroom. Eleanor was concerned at Sansa’s listlessness, but wasn’t sure how to address the issue. Sandor was waiting for them at the doorway to the Assembly Rooms, turning to Sansa, he bowed before addressing her.
“Miss Stark, I hope that you have room on your dance card for me?”
Sansa exhaled a deep breath and looked at Sandor, he had never thought of her eyes as cold until tonight “I am sorry Colonel Clegane, my dance card is full this evening.” Turning to Eleanor, Sansa grasped her hand “Nellie, do have a wonderful evening.” With that she moved away from the siblings. Sandor turned to his sister.
“Did you tell her about our conversation in the coach?” Eleanor shook her head, Sandor continued “Well, I suppose it is for the best though, I will not deny that I am disappointed.” He wistfully watched her twirl around the floor with her first partner “I do so enjoy spending time with her.”
“I hope you haven’t waited too long.” Eleanor quipped.
“Too long?”
“To tell her that you are in love with her.”
“In love?” he sputtered.
“Oh Sandor, it is obvious to everyone except Sansa…and yourself. I hope you have not done something to make her fall out of love with you.”
“In love with me?” he sputtered, again.
Eleanor rolled her eyes at him as her first partner arrived to claim his dance. “Yes, in love” she hissed as she moved away from him.
*
Sandor spent the evening realizing what a fool he had been. Of course, he was in love with her, how could he have been so unaware. He watched Sansa whirl around the dance floor, with one man after another; his only solace, that she did not look as though she was enjoying the evening either. The dance before supper, their dance, was spent lamenting the fact that he would not have the opportunity to speak to Sansa at all tonight. Not only was there no dancing, but he was certain that Sir Ramsay had taken the opportunity to ask to eat with Sansa as well. Morosely, he sat with Nellie and Podrick at supper, covertly watching Sansa pick at her food while Sir Ramsay talked and gestured and looked at Sansa in a less than appropriate way. Sandor fumed, but was calmed by none other than Podrick.
“Sandor, I am feeling a bit unwell, I was wondering if you could do a favor for me?”
Sandor turned to him “Of course, do you need me to summon your carriage?”
“No, I will be well if I can sit out the next set. I was hoping that you could step in for me.”
“Of course, who is your next dance with?”
“Miss Stark”
Sandor jerked his head to Podrick, then to his sister and grinned “It would be my honor, perhaps you could keep my sister company while I am discharging this favor?”
“I am sure I can do that.” Podrick replied with a smirk.
Sandor barely noticed what he ate at supper, so focused on what he hoped to say to Miss Stark during their dance, when he heard the musicians warming up, he leapt to his feet quickly. Smiling at his sister and nodding thanks to Podrick, he made his way over to the table where Sansa was sitting. Sansa glanced up as Sandor arrived by her side.
“Miss Stark, Sir Podrick is not feeling well and asked if I would honor his dance with you.” Sansa glanced over to where Eleanor was sitting to see her and Podrick, heads tilted close together in serious conversation. Looking back at Sandor, she nodded and held out her hand to him to be helped up, which he took quickly. She turned back to Sir Ramsay.
“Thank you for the dance and the conversation Sir Ramsay, it has been most enlightening.”
“Miss Stark I will collect you for the final dance of the evening.”
Taking their places across from each other, Sandor was distressed to note that Sansa did not make eye contact with him, she stared at a point over his left shoulder. The music began and both columns moved together to bow or curtsy, before coming together as a couple. While Sansa did place her hand in Sandor’s and the other on his shoulder, she still did not look him in the eye. Sandor sighed in frustration, but realized he had to determine what was wrong.
“Miss Stark, have I offended you in some way? If I have, please tell me so that I may make amends.”
Sansa jerked her eyes over to look at him. “Not at all Colonel, I am just sorry I have taken up so much of your time this season, I’m sure it is tiring to have to entertain a bunch of young girls, when there is so much entertainment out there in the real world.”
Sandor looked at her confused “Miss Stark, I do not know where you got the impression that I do not enjoy spending time with you, because I do.”
Sansa snorted inelegantly. “Is that true? I inadvertently overheard you speaking to Lord Lannister earlier, and it sounded as if you were pleased the season was coming to an end so that you would be able to resume your normal pursuits.”
Sansa could feel the tears pricking behind her eyes, she would not give Colonel Clegane the satisfaction of knowing her feelings. “Colonel Clegane, if you will excuse me, it is quite stuffy in here, and I fear I need to get some fresh air. With that, she dropped his hand and rushed off the dance floor, brushing by other couples and bystanders on her way. She needed to make it outside before the tears spilled and revealed her true feelings.
Sandor stood on the dance floor and watched Sansa leave, wondering what she meant by her last statement. Thinking back to his conversation with Lannister, his eyes widened when he recalled Jaime’s quip about Ros’ establishment. As a younger soldier, of course he had frequented the pillow houses, but he hadn’t been there in years! Was that what Sansa overheard? He groaned, that cad Lannister, he was trouble even after all these years. Sandor rushed off the dance floor to find Sansa and hopefully explain himself.
*
Sansa leaned against an outside pillar hidden from view, gulping down deep breaths, tears streaming down her face. Tonight had been such a mess. She had been so looking forward to it, how could she have been so wrong about Sandor? She let out a deep shuddering breath. She was glad the season was almost over; after tonight, if Sir Podrick offered for Eleanor, she would probably have no cause to see Sandor anytime soon. She was just beginning to calm down, when she heard the door open and close behind her, melting deeper into the shadows, she hoped whoever it was would just go away.
“Miss Stark, are you well, where are you?”
Sansa internally groaned and stepped into view “Sir Ramsay; yes, I am well. Just a little warm from the crush.”
“Ah, that is understandable, there were so many people in the room tonight, and it is unfortunate that it was not limited to the ton.”
“I am not sure I understand your meaning.”
Ramsay sighed dramatically “so many jumped up peasants, thinking they are much more important than they are. Did you see the amount of uniforms in there? Who do they think they are? They are just a bunch of second sons who did not inherit an estate. “
Sansa was stunned, how dare he? Drawing up to her full height Sansa replied “Well Sir Ramsay, you are of course entitled to your own opinion, however I feel that if a man risked his life to defend our country, he is deserving of my attention.” With that she tried to draw away from him only to be halted when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him.
“Such fire, I like that in a woman. Tell me, is this anger real or for show? Perhaps to pique my interest even more?”
“Unhand me, I am in no way interested in piquing your interest.” As she attempted to lurch away. Just as she thought she was out of his reach, Sir Ramsay grasped the neckline of her dress and tried to pull her back towards him. Sansa was horrified to hear her dress ripping, Sir Ramsay let out an evil laugh, and then lunged towards her. In the struggle, neither one of them heard the door slide open, and a large man observe what was happening.
Sandor grabbed Ramsay by the scruff of his neck and pulled him away from Sansa “What is the meaning of this? It is obvious Miss Stark is not interested in your attentions.”
Ramsay sneered, “That is up for debate, she led me on a merry chase.”
Sansa let out a strangled protest “I did no such thing, I came out here to get a breath of fresh air, it is so stuffy in there, and you followed me.”
“You harlot, you caught my eye, you wanted me to follow you. You are just like every other chit out there.”
Hearing enough, Sandor reared back his fist and punched Ramsay in the face, breaking his nose, blood flying everywhere. He went down in a heap, unconscious. This rake, how dare he. Noticing that Sansa had started to tremble, he wrapped his arms around her. “Miss Stark, are you well?”
“I am, thanks to your intercession, Colonel Clegane. But my dress is quite ruined, what am I to do? I can not go back inside and get my cloak, everyone will see me, and I’ll be ruined. I also can not walk the streets like this.”
“I can take you myself. I can keep you safe. Do you want to go home?”
Sansa opened her mouth to answer, but they heard a commotion at the doorway, Sansa tipped her head up to look Sandor in the eyes, “don’t tell anyone what happened, my family will make him marry me. I would rather be ruined than spend my life tied to him, he is a brute.”
Sandor looked at her pained “Miss Stark, Sansa, as soon as anyone sees you, they will know something has happened. You will be ruined either way. What can I do to assist you?”
“If you are amenable, I would have you kiss me”
“What?”
“If I’m going to be ruined anyway, it might as well be with you. I’ve longed to know what it would feel like to be kissed by you; this will be my only opportunity.”
Sandor stared at her dumbfounded, she wanted to be kissed by him? How was it possible that they wanted the same thing? He looked Sansa in the eyes to ascertain that she was serious, seeing the determination there, he responded “I will kiss you, but when your father demands that I marry you to save your reputation, I will do that too!” Tightening his hold on her waist, Sandor lowered his mouth onto hers, and kissed her soundly, just as Lord Eddard Stark burst out the door.
“What is the meaning of this?” Eddard Stark roared in his fiercest voice.
“Papa, it is not as it appears, Sandor saved me from Sir Ramsay”
“that may be so, but are you not kissing a man, in a manner that is not appropriate for an unmarried couple?”
Sansa sighed “I guess it is as it appears”
“Colonel Clegane, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“Only that, before you challenge me to a duel or demand that I marry her to save her reputation, let me tell you one thing; I love your daughter, and it would be my greatest honor if you would grant me her hand in marriage.”
Both Sansa and Eddard gaped at him.
"You love her?" Eddard said at the same time Sansa said "you love me?"
"Yes" Sandor directed at Eddard, then turning to Sansa, and taking her hands in his, he lowered his voice "yes, Sansa, I do. I know this is sudden, but I can not bear the thought of losing you. If revealing my feelings too early is the price I must pay, I will."
"Oh, Sandor, I love you too." Sansa cried, as she threw herself back into his arms and kissed him fully on the mouth. Sandor enthusiastically kissed her back, where they remained until both heard a loud throat clearing. Jumping back, they looked guiltily at Eddard.
"Well, I suppose we have a wedding to announce. We do need to let it be known now, before this cur" Eddard nudged Ramsay with his toe "regains consciousness, and says something inappropriate in public that will require Sandor calling him out. However, you both must know that the timing of this will make it look as though I demanded that you marry. Are you both willing to endure the speculation?"
Sandor looked at Sansa fondly "will I be married to Sansa in the end?" Lord Stark nodded. "Then I can endure anything."
"Papa, I can not go back in there, Sir Ramsay ripped my dress." Sansa cried; suddenly, remembering something, she fumbled through her reticule, and pulled out a scrap of cloth "maybe this will work. Sandor, I made this for you." Sansa unfolded the cloth to reveal a beautiful handkerchief embroidered with running hounds across the hem.
"You made this for me?"
"I did, I had meant to give it to you this evening, before our misunderstanding."
"I have my own idea, use this to pin it in place over the tear." He removed one of his medals and handed it to Sansa "wear my favor, until I can replace it with a ring." Sansa fashioned the cloth into a rosette and pinned it in place.
"Does it look acceptable?" She looked at her papa, then Sandor; they both nodded.
Lord Stark grinned "Come you two, it is time to start the tongues wagging."
"One moment please, Lord Stark." Turning to Sansa, Sandor sank down to one knee in front of her "Miss Sansa Stark, will you make me the happiest man in the world, will you marry me?"
Tears of happiness streaming down her face, Sansa cupped Sandor's scarred cheek and replied "not only would it be my honor to marry you, it would be my heart's desire."
Turning his head, Sandor kissed Sansa's palm, then rising to his full height he tucked Sansa's hand into the crook of his arms, turned to his future father-in-law and declared "we are ready."
Years later, settled in their estate in Devon, surrounded by a house full of children, they would laughingly tease each other about who had been forced to marry who. Both knew however, that rather than being forced to marry, they had been lucky enough to be allowed to marry their soulmate.